


Simple Indulgence

by aretia



Series: Holiday Gifts 2018 [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Grooming, M/M, purring galra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 17:38:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17146139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aretia/pseuds/aretia
Summary: As the Emperor of the known universe, Zarkon had access to all the luxuries one could imagine. Still, there were some things he desired that, from the beginning of his ten-millennia-long reign, were out of his reach.Until Shiro. Shiro gave him everything he wanted and more.





	Simple Indulgence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kolivans (arka_r)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arka_r/gifts).



As the Emperor of the known universe, Zarkon had access to all the luxuries one could imagine. Still, there were some things he desired that, from the beginning of his ten-millennia-long reign, were out of his reach. Touch, domesticity, _love_ were not what a ruthless emperor was supposed to want or need. But he did, he wanted them so deeply that it ached, and he had never had the opportunity to satisfy his needs. Until Shiro. Shiro gave him everything he wanted and more. 

Zarkon opened the door to his chambers. He was greeted with the sight of Shiro on the floor, doing one-armed push-ups. He was facing away from the door and didn’t notice Zarkon enter, so Zarkon took in the view, feeling his face growing heated as he watched the muscles on Shiro’s back ripple with each fluid movement. 

Shiro’s prosthetic arm was detached, hanging on a rack on the wall alongside other specialized prosthetics that rivaled those of Zarkon’s highest ranked commanders. Zarkon wanted his consort to be capable of defending himself. But Shiro never looked stronger wearing one of the Empire’s high-tech apparatuses than he did when the scars on his right arm were exposed. Zarkon had scars of his own, and he never looked at Shiro with pity. He wished he could make up for what his own Empire had done to him, and give him his real arm back, not just a replacement. But it was the strongest part of him—not the prosthetic, as Shiro said that Sendak had once said to him, but the fact that he had survived—and Zarkon would never change that for the world.

Shiro finished his set and propped himself up into a kneeling position, and then glanced over his shoulder. “Zarkon!” he said. The warm tone of his voice and the smile breaking across his lips were enough to make Zarkon melt. “I didn’t hear you come in. You’re very stealthy.”

Zarkon chuffed a small laugh. He lifted off his helmet, and pressed a button on his armor that made it separate from his body with a _whoosh_ and fall to the floor. Once Zarkon was undressed down to his undersuit, Shiro walked up to him and wrapped his arm around Zarkon’s waist. The much shorter human’s head rested in the middle of Zarkon’s chest. Zarkon leaned a little into Shiro’s embrace, and brought his hand up to run his fingers though Shiro’s short hair.

“Zarkon, darling?” Shiro said. To anyone else, he was to be called _Emperor_ Zarkon, but Shiro’s voice saying his name was like a soothing melody, and the added endearment made the quintessence-powered remnants of Zarkon’s heart flutter. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Tired,” Zarkon replied. The weight he felt in his bones was evident in his slouching posture. 

“Here.” Shiro took a step back from Zarkon and reached up to touch his face, his fingers just barely brushing the ridges on the bottom of Zarkon’s chin. “Lean down.” Zarkon did so, and Shiro scratched under his chin, then moved his fingers up along his jawline to rub behind his ear. Zarkon purred, a deep, reverberating sound like the rumble of a spaceship’s engine. 

“I know you like this,” Shiro cooed, looking up at Zarkon with that smug smile.

Zarkon nodded, and slumped against Shiro, leaning too much of his weight against him.

“Whoa!” Shiro said, struggling to prop him back up. “I’m not strong enough to carry you yet. Maybe you should sit down so I can reach your head.”

Again, Zarkon complied. He wouldn’t tolerate being bossed around by anyone other than Shiro, but with Shiro it was nice. He would do anything to continue receiving the pleasant touches, after all. On his knees, Zarkon still came up to about the level of Shiro’s chest. Shiro’s hand resumed petting him behind the ear, then moved around to the back of his head to stroke the hard ridges there. The grooves between the plates were especially sensitive, and Zarkon leaned his head back into the touch and let out a soft whimper.

“You’re cute,” Shiro whispered. He leaned down and kissed Zarkon’s forehead. 

Zarkon pressed his face against Shiro’s chest and nuzzled him. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured.

Shiro rested his cheek against the top of Zarkon’s head. “I could say the same. But those thoughts lie to us. I chose to be with you.” He tilted Zarkon’s chin up with his fingers, and kissed him on the lips. “I love you.”

Shiro was the one who had finally given him permission to feel emotions that he had locked away for thousands of years. Words that Zarkon didn’t even think he should be allowed to say spilled from his mouth. “I love you too, Shiro. You’re my everything.”


End file.
